"Fuck the data." I meet his gaze. "Look at her, Corvus. Actually look at her. The way she flinches. The way she cries when she thinks no one can hear. The way she's breaking herself apart trying to keep some scrap of autonomy." I lean forward. "Is that what compatibility looks like?"
He's quiet for a long moment. Then: "No."
"So what do we do?"
"We can't let her go," Oakley says. "She'll die. The rejection sickness is too advanced."
"And keeping her here is killing her too. Just slower. More painfully." I run my hands through my hair. "There has to be another option."
"There isn't." Corvus pulls up his tablet. Shows us charts. Graphs. Medical data. "The biology is clear. Either she accepts the bond or she dies. Those are the only outcomes."
"Then we make a third option."
"That's not how biology works."
"Then we change how we approach this." I stand. "We can't force it. Can't break her down until she accepts us. That's not a bond. That's ownership."
"So what?" Corvus leans back. "We let her reject us and die?"
"No. We..." I struggle to find words. "We earn it. Her acceptance. Her trust. We stop trying to make her submit and start trying to deserve her."
Oakley stares at me. "That could take months. Years. She might never—"
"I know."
"And the rejection sickness will keep getting worse. She's already—"
"I know that too." I meet his eyes. "But what's the alternative? Keep her prisoner until Stockholm syndrome kicks in? Force proximity until her biology overrides her will? That's not a mate. That's a captive."
Corvus is quiet for a long moment. Then: "You're suggesting we court her. While she's dying from rejecting us."
"I'm suggesting we give her actual choices. Real autonomy. Stop watching her. Stop controlling her. Start treating her like a person whose opinion matters."
"That's not how Alpha pack dynamics work," Oakley says quietly.
"Then maybe our dynamics are wrong."
The words hang in the air. Heresy. Everything we were taught says Alphas lead, Omegas follow. Biology determines hierarchy. Fighting it is fighting nature itself.
But I keep seeing her face. Hearing her voice."You stole my future because biology said you could."
"I don't know if this will work," I admit. "Don't know if she'll ever forgive us. Ever want us. But at least we'll know we tried to do it right. That we saw her as a person with the right to choose."
"Even if she chooses to leave?" Corvus asks.
"Even then."
"You've lost your mind," Oakley says. But he's smiling slightly. "But fuck it. I'm in. I've felt sick about this since the beginning. At least this way I can look at myself in the mirror."
We both turn to Corvus.
He's studying his tablet. Not looking at us. "The rejection sickness is terminal without bond acceptance. If we do this your way—give her space, let her choose—we're gambling with her life."
"We're gambling with it either way," I say. "At least this way, if she dies, she dies free."
"That's not comforting."
"It's not meant to be."
